


doing things that you don't like

by badlywrittenbfu (ghoultown), ghoultown



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Brain Surgery, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Pining, Post-Break Up, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Shane Madej Is So Whipped, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej is an idiot, Soulmate AU, They meet in a bookstore, awkward boys, spotless mind?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-08-19 00:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/badlywrittenbfu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/ghoultown
Summary: Shane knew Ryan had gone through with It when he, sober and alone, sent a text message in the early morning reading,i miss you, and Ryan replied,sorry, who is this?or, ryan wipes his brain after he and shane break up and shane figures he might as well try again.





	1. It.

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy. here we go again.
> 
> more soulmate garbage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't seen 'eternal sunshine of the spotless mind' but let's just say i'm intrigued.
> 
> also, i know there are 10 chapters to be expected - i am still planning out what all happens, so that number may change. but there is certainly more to come! thank you.

* * *

_Hello, there! This is Dr. Edward Woods, co-author of “How to Reestablish Love Following A Cerebral Cleanse … In as Little as 7 Days,” and welcome to the pre-operation introduction to the Soulmate Recall Dissection Procedure, the easiest way to restart your chances at finding The One… the second time around!_

_ Not too long ago, I was right where you are. I knew my Soulmate pairing was going awry, and I needed a reset. And that’s exactly what you’ve found here - a reset button, with your name on it! No more fighting, no more hassle. If you aren't happy, why stick around? Right?_

_I'll keep this brief. The benefits of the SRD procedure include: _

  1. _ A second chance at love! A discounted chance, at that!_
  2. _A speedy recovery following the cerebral cleansing operation!_
  3. _ A thorough and discreet (yet not exploitative) glance through your personal objects (photos, social media, etc.) to eliminate all reminders of your past life - with no extra fees!_
  4. _A number of letters addressed to your closest friends and family members acknowledging your situation and requesting that they not mention your ex-Soulmate from now ‘til forever._
  5. _ If, at any point in time following your operation, you are reminded of small details of your past with your ex-Soulmate or you remember your past entirely - you will get a refund immediately. _

_ Following your operation, you will be placed under a light anesthetic (that you have already consented to) and transported back to your home with a vague memory planted that will fill the time you missed. You may or may not be aware of your SRD procedure - your physician will have your files, if you wish to find out. I've been there!_

_ May your life from here on out be full of love and support - and may your Soulmate be found again! _

* * *


	2. Window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is almost four in the morning as i write this so... if it doesn't make sense, or there are errors, please let me know! thank you for reading.

This is a mistake. Shane knows this _ now _. 

[Or, he knew it as he entered the bookshop he _ knows _ Ryan frequents, he knew it as he walked himself down the same sidewalk as the bookshop he knows Ryan frequents. He knew it, also, as he sat on his couch an hour ago and said to himself, _ hm, it would be a mistake to go to a bookshop that I know Ryan frequents._]

But he did it anyway. He had lurked to the furthest corner of the building, where the overhead lights just barely illuminate the back of the bookshelves (the lonelier nooks and crannies), where he stands now - fingers dancing idly across the rough spines of the older editions. No one comes back here. Well, apart from Ryan. And Shane does, now, entirely because of Ryan.

Shane had been fully prepared to leave. He’d finally finished mapping the terrain of the old books with his hands. There are other old shops in the area he hasn’t messed with, and he’d conquered his fear. No Ryan in sight, closure acquired. He could finally _ move, _ leave town, whatever. The last cords had been snapped apart. He was _ moving on _, right then and there. Putting his foot down, making progress. Then he had turned around.

Ryan is a bookshelf away. His head is perfectly framed in the gap created by the Auto/Biographies section, face curled in concentration as he reads the back cover of an autobiography. He doesn’t seem to clock Shane, who moves at a snail’s pace toward him. The tall man, nearly shrouded in shadow, walks - shoe-tip to shoe-heel - close to the window formed by several issues of _ The Lives of the Artists _ and _ Jackson Pollock: An American Saga. _ He isn’t sure whether he’s propelled simply by the fear of it all - _ if he looks me in the eyes, I might pass out _ \- or precisely the opposite - _ if he sees me, he won’t know me. _

(Shane knew Ryan had gone through with _ It _ when he, sober and alone, sent a text message in the early morning reading, _ i miss you_, and Ryan replied, _ sorry, who is this? _)

Either way, he gets close enough to identify the book - _ Just Kids _by Patti Smith. A classic.

It’s almost like he’s living an episode of Blue Planet. Ryan, the zebra, trying to graze peacefully while Shane, the camera man, creeps through the tall grass to get as close as he can without disturbing him (or alerting any surrounding predators). He does a terrible job at it.

Ryan looks up at him, finally when his chest touches the cold metal shelf, his nose catching a glint of yellow light. Shane makes no effort to move. It’s too good to see him again. Besides, he’s already been caught. He attempts a smile

“Hello?” Ryan’s eyes look brighter, now. Less dark around the edges since Shane last saw him five months ago.

Shane shakes his head, “Sorry. I, um… thought you were someone I know.”

“Yeah?” Ryan asks. He smiles. “Hope it’s a good someone.”

“He is,” Shane says quietly. His voice is unfamiliar, croaky in the back of his throat. He tilts his head toward the book. “Good book. Inspiring, and… uh, such.”

“Yeah?” Ryan smiles, warm, clearly fascinated by the lanky man’s awkward demeanor. He holds the book up for Shane to see better. “That’s good. I’ve been wanting to read this for awhile. 

Shane crosses his arms over his chest. He wonders what would happen if he were to tell Ryan he’s already read it three times. And that he didn’t like it, because it was a lot more romantic than he had anticipated, and that he came into it expecting more New York charm than he received. 

“Nice,” he says instead. “Uh. Sorry for spookin’ ya.”

“No worries,” Ryan runs a hand through his hair. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one my age that comes here.”

Shane raises his eyebrows. “You think I’m _ your _age?”

Ryan blinks at him, “I mean… yeah?”

Shane nearly says, _ Oh, yeah, you’re 29 now. Nearly to your thirties, old man Bergara. You’re catchin’ up to me. _But he can’t say that.

Instead, he slips his arm through the window to offer a handshake. Ryan accepts hesitantly. “I’m Shane.”

“Ryan,” the shorter man laughs as he retrieves his hand. “You’re an odd fella.”

“Thanks?” Shane hits his elbow on the metal shelf as he brings himself back to his own side. There’s a dread that settles in the bottom of his stomach. Several kinds. One tells him, _ get out of here before you do it again. _A second says, _he won't mind. _A third, unexpected dread appears, the dread of the quickly approaching end to a conversation that Shane wants to last forever, punches him in the chest. “Well. I’ll let you get on with your book searching.”

“Right.” Ryan says it twice, as if to return himself to reality. The second time is more sure. “_Right. _Yeah, I was… I was, uh, book searching.”

Shane gives his face one more scan. The SRD clinic is just down the road. He has a mind to stop there on the way home. “Yeah. Well.”

He gives a final nod, a hand-gesture away from tipping an invisible hat, and begins his journey back into civilization. His feet walk him blindly forward, past the out-of-date computer labs and the abandoned Story Time rooms. He walks until he can feel the cold door under his hands, can hear the noise of the street outside. Shane steps out onto the pavement. Orienting himself was needed. His hands found their place in his pockets as he looked around. Which way did he come from?

A hand grabs his arm. 

“You live here right?”

Shane tilts his head downwards. Ryan still has the book in his hand. “Yeah.” He squints, “Why?”

Ryan releases his grip. He hugs the book to his chest, “I wanna see you around.” Ryan smiles and Shane can feel his stomach turn to putty.

“I don’t know. I was actually thinking about moving.” He raises his head to stare up at the skyscrapers. They’re exhausting to behold. A decision is made: he wouldn’t mind being a mountain man. “Pretty… uh, pretty far away.”

“Well, I hope… for _ my _sake... you don’t.” Ryan steps closer. He’s always held Shane’s attention on a leash. Wherever he is, Shane will be. He taps Shane’s shoulder to make sure he’s listening. Shane hums. Ryan presses, “Okay?”

Shane wonders if this is okay. Clearly, Ryan doesn’t know what he’s asking. 

Five months ago, Ryan made the conscious decision to forget Shane. Five months ago, Ryan put in the money and time to wipe his brain clean - to forget all the times they’d spent together, the kisses they’d shared, the fights they’d had. All of that effort. If Shane did this… it would be an awfully expensive endeavor. Not to mention, it would go directly against the wishes of Ryan-five-months-ago. 

_But,_ the devil on Shane’s shoulder whispers into his ear, _Ryan-right-now is right here. And he wants you to stay._

Shane turns. He shrugs. The way Ryan's face splits into a grin makes his heart implode. “If you say so, Ryan.”


	3. Coffee.

The SRD clinic is a small, grey building wedged in the middle of a colorful chaos. 

The place used to be a souvenir shop, a printing store, and a craft-goods shop (in no discernable order). Whatever leased the place would never last but a few months. It was always overlooked, lost on eyes that were searching for restaurants or smoke joints. But, when the procedure dropped in price after a few years of experimentation on some rich, miserable communities, the Woods Corporation had started stripping hundreds of vulnerable and local businesses to plant a chain of their clinics across the country. People didn’t seem too worried about it - Shane remembers this, because he was _ very _worried about it.

He is familiar with Black Mirror. He understands the risks of the future. Technology is starting to creep into people in terrifying ways. But having a fast-food-like chain of buildings where you can pay to get your brain poked around in? No. 

Shane paces back and forth, from the edge of the bench to the crack in the sidewalk, trying to will himself to go in. It’s just a door. He just needs to walk forward and push it open, and then he can move on with the rest of his life. He can drive in one direction until he reaches woodlands or something. Become a hermit. Shane’s always wanted to be a hermit.

He stops his pacing, turning to face the awfully grey building. The absence of determination is worrying, but he has time to find it, probably.

“Hey.” A voice pipes up behind him, a warm hand on his shoulder. He hasn’t heard that voice in a week. “What are you doing?”

Shane jumps. He nearly falls on his face as he spins around, “Oh. Hi, Ryan.”

“You wanna get your memory wiped?” Ryan seems upset by that notion, dropping his hand to rest beside him. His eyebrows are drawn tightly together at the top of his nose. Shane understands that feeling. Kind of ironic. “Why?”

“I… my other…” Shane rubs the back of his neck. “No reason. What are you doing?”

“Taking this book back,” he holds up _ Just Kids. _

Shane laughs, both guilty about and thankful for the distraction, “Hate it that much? Couldn’t even finish it?”

“No, I finished it,” Ryan looks down and runs his thumb over the front cover. “But yeah. Not a fan.” He glances up through his eyelashes, doubtful, “How’d you know?”

Shane shrugs, trying to shoulder the responsibility of acting nonchalant while his face is on fire, “I’m not a huge fan, personally. It was a little, uh, too romantic for me. Didn’t peg you as a romantic guy.”

Ryan looks amazed. Shane realizes he might have overdone it. “Yeah… _ exactly _.”

“What can I say? I’m a magic man.” Shane slips his hands into his pockets to make himself smaller.

“Seems so.” Ryan breaks eye contact, trying to recall what he was doing. “Oh. Right. I was… uh, what did you call it last time? Book returning, rather than book searching.”

Shane laughs, probably much too loud to be normal, and points down the sidewalk. “Bookshop’s that-a-way, you know. You’re going the wrong direction, Ber- uh, Ryan.”

“Well, I _ was _going in the right direction, but then I saw you.” Ryan says it so casually, clearly unaware of the impact of the words on Shane. “Came over to say hi.”

“Right.” 

Ryan looks at him expectantly. 

“Well,” Shane says slowly. He brings a hand from his pocket to wave, “Hi.”

“Do you wanna get coffee?” The words are abrupt, unexpected by either party. 

“Uh,” Shane says. Time pauses for a moment. 

_ Get coffee like, just to get coffee? _

_ Or, like as a date? _

“Shane?”

_ Does he know? Does he need to talk to me about it? _

“Are you okay?”

_ Did I overdo it? _

“Shane.” Ryan grabs both of his shoulders, tight. Shane blinks. Time’s running again. “We don’t have to, man. I just thought I’d offer, since I was headed there after turning the book back in anyways.”

Shane squeezes his eyes closed, “Sorry. Uh.” _ I want to go with him. I want to - but I shouldn’t. But he doesn’t know that. _“Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. Sorry, I’m a little… skittish today.”

“Clearly.” Before Ryan pulls away, he runs his thumbs up and down once over Shane’s sleeve. “You look a little tired, too.”

_ Can’t sleep, thinking about you. _“Coffee’s greatly needed, I suppose.”

Ryan seems pleased with that answer. He holds the book safe under his arm as he walks. Shane meets his stride, taking a moment to get used to this whole Walking Next to Ryan thing again. It was more difficult to keep his hand to himself - it was always easier to distract himself from Ryan’s exhaustingly slow pace by swinging their arms. 

“So, you live here.” Ryan says. “You come downtown often?”

“Not really,” Shane reaches up to grab a leaf from a tree they duck underneath. He plays with it, rolling it between his fingers. “Last week was a little bit of an anomaly. I’m a… yeah, I’m usually a hermit, of sorts.”

“Hm,” Ryan seems to look the tall man over. He slows his pace for just a moment. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I mean - sorry,” he laughs, and Shane can’t swallow his smirk as they start up again. “That was rude, probably. I meant - like, I _ swear _, I’ve seen you around.”

“Hate to break it to ya, but you haven’t.” Shane breaks the stem of the leaf and tosses it over his shoulder. “Or, at least, I’ve never seen _ you _before.”

“Yeah, but you know someone I look like, right?”

“I thought so, anyways.” Shane takes a deep breath, ducking under the awning of the bookshop to open the door. He holds it for Ryan, who stares at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Jesus, you just… fuckin’ _ dived _for the door, there.” Ryan slowly walks inside, chuckling. “Calm down, Shane.”

“I refuse to apologize for chivalry,” Shane says. He can’t smother the hurt in his chest at Ryan’s surprise - he always opens the door for him. Even if Ryan is _ right there _, hand nearly on the handle, Shane would grab him and move him back a few feet. It was an inside joke of sorts. 

“Good,” Ryan says. “I could get used to some chivalry.”

_ Ryan’s said that before_, Shane thinks to himself. And, for a moment, he figures this might be alright. 

“You got any books for me that I might actually _ like, _magic man?” Ryan asks, holding a book voucher for a trade. He waves it in Shane’s face. “Since you know me sooo well.”

“Hm. Still biography?” Shane asks. He starts walking toward the back because he already knows the answer. 

Ryan jogs to keep up with him as he ducks into the _ J-P _ section. He grabs the back of Shane’s shirt, “ _ Slow down, _holy shit.”

“Aren’t you a little sailor, today.” Shane reaches up to the top shelf. This feels painfully normal. “This is a place of business.”

“_ You’re _a place of business - ooh.” Ryan wraps his hands around the book that’s placed into his hands. He squints, “Wait, Lebron wrote a book?”

“Yeah. Not quite your run of the mill biography, but you… well, I _ think _you might be a sports person.”

“You’re good at this,” Ryan smiles, toothy and wide, scanning over the words on the back. He cradles the book to his chest. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Shane shrugs. His left hand finds its home in his pocket. He isn’t sure what to do with it otherwise. He yawns, smothering it with his right palm. “Now. About that coffee.”


	4. Follow.

Shane can’t sleep. Though everything _ seems _to be fine - if Ryan remembers, he doesn’t show it, and Shane is confident in his ability to read his Soulmate - he can’t allow himself to relax. He’s already “revealed too much,” as it were. At this pace, it’s only a matter of time. 

Shane has looked up the procedure many times, tossing and turning on the idea of allowing someone _ literally _ inside his head. There’s a 0.000001% chance of recollection of your Soulmate, with an even lower margin for complete recollection - dates, locations, etc. This _ should _bring him comfort and security. 

And it _ would _. If Shane weren’t such a terrible worrier, such an anxious wreck, particularly when thinking about Ryan. 

These numbers are only for the _ best-case scenario, _which Shane and Ryan do not have in any capacity. Oftentimes, when Soulmates go through with the procedure, they part ways forever. They avoid each other at all costs because, subconsciously, they know they aren’t meant to be together. 

Shane can’t live without Ryan. He knows this with every inch of himself. Ryan used to be the same before he attempted to erase the connection between them. But even now, his subconscious fights restlessly against that. 

So they’re not the best-case scenario. If anything, they’re the worst. 

With this in mind, with every single factor that tells him that they shouldn’t be together, Shane gets up out of bed around four in the evening and drives downtown to find him again. Because it’s all he knows how to do.

He remembers when Ryan got the job at the little antique shop on the outskirts of downtown. He remembers Ryan bursting into his apartment and leaping across the room with the brightest smile on his face. It was such a simple thing to be so elated about, but his elation was contagious. To a terminal degree.

The bell on the door is so old, it barely makes a sound when rustled. Ryan can hear it, however, peeking over the counter. He lights up.

“Why, hello there, stranger.”

Shane draws his hands into fists and, at a loss for what to do next, places them on his hips. _ God, he’s so… cute. _“Hey, uh, there.”

“Now, how did you find me, this time?” Ryan flips the horizontal door open to slide out from behind the register. “Can’t say it’s a coincidence this time, surely.”

“What, maybe I just wanted to go antiquing,” Shane makes a noise, surprised, in the back of his throat as Ryan greets him with a hug. He places his hands carefully on Ryan’s back. _ This is… I missed this. _

Ryan pulls back, looking at him. Maybe to see if he was being weird again, but also just to look at him. Shane couldn’t seem to break his eyes away. It was always wonderful to just… _ stare. _“Is that your excuse?”

Upon realizing that Ryan’s hands are still hovering precariously on his hips, Shane sputters for a moment. He ends up with, “Figured this was a place you’d like. And… uh, I saw you through the window when I passed.”

“Well, yeah. I’m … I was just about to close things up here,” Ryan says, confused but still glowing.

“I know…” 

Ryan stills, his smile falling ever so slightly, waiting for an explanation.

“I, um.” Shane hikes his thumb over his shoulder. Ryan’s gaze follows its direction. “I saw the opening hours. On the door. Uh. It’s early, though. For closing. Right?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s slow and I haven’t eaten all day, so I thought I’d get some dinner - “

_ You always forget to eat, Ryan. It’s not healthy. I know you always forget - I used to take you to dinner. I wish you’d remember - we’d leave thirty minutes early, and we’d head to that burger joint you like, and you’d hold my hand in the parking lot. And you got ketchup on my shirt once and you offered to replace it. Do you remember? Please. _

“Alright,” Shane says instead. He wishes his brain would quiet down, sometimes. Stop feeding him the wrong things to say. “Alone?”

“Have a problem with that?” Ryan challenges. _That was very Ryan. _

Shane clears his throat. He busies himself by messing with an old picture frame. He tries again. “After you close up… we should go get dinner.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Dinner,” says Ryan. He tastes the word. “Dinnnnnnner.” Tastes the idea of dinner with Shane. “I don’t see why not. It takes a second to - “

“I’ll wait outside,” he nods, already backing towards the door. “Thanks.”

Ryan must rush his way through closing. Shane counts five minutes for a usually eight-minute job, the door opening prematurely nearly startling him up from his seat on the bench at the storefront. 

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“Great,” Shane stands coolly, trying to look like he isn’t exploding on the inside. “Where are we headed?”

Ryan opens his mouth to respond. He closes it. Again, “I don’t know.”

“You gotta choose.” Shane sets off, knowing that Ryan will follow, which he does. The thought makes him a little sick. “Since you had the idea, and all.”

“_ You _invited me.” Ryan takes two steps for every one Shane takes.

“What are you talking about?” Shane turns in a random direction, down an unfamiliar street. Ryan follows. 

Ryan settles on a Thai place, Thai Orchid, that Shane’s never been to before. He imagines Ryan never told him about it because he hadn’t enjoyed it - a hypothesis that, in time, is proved painfully correct by Ryan’s confused expression after each bite. Shane enjoys watching him pretend like he likes it. 

“Yeah, it’s… _ interesting, _” Ryan says, tapping the tines of his fork against the edge of his plate as he tries to convince himself that he speaks truthfully. “Um… it’s good.”

“You might wanna tell your face that,” Shane smirks, lifting his napkin from his lap and delicately folding to rest beside his own plate. “You _ picked _ this place, Ryan. You know that, right?”

“Well, I thought I’d like it.” It’s always a delight to see a grown man pout.

“Are you full?” Shane asks, smiling at Ryan’s pitiful nod. “I’ll pay, then we can leave.”

Ryan doesn’t argue - he’s _ very _upset. 

The walk back to the antique store is mostly silent, but not altogether uncomfortable. The only words spoken are from Ryan, telling him that he can just be dropped off at the antique store because he forgot to lock the register. The quiet is sustainable for another block or so, Shane’s hands in his pockets and Ryan’s twisting his jacket zipper. 

“Uh, this is me,” Ryan says quietly, slowing down in front of the door. He fumbles for his keys, turning his back to Shane to slip the key into the lock. 

“Alright,” Shane stands there, not quite ready to leave. “That was fun, huh?”

Ryan looks over his shoulder, “It was.” He beams, pushing the door open. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah?” Shane should stop this, he knows, but it feels so _ good _ not to be alone. 

“Yeah,” Ryan moves to step inside, pulling his keyring out and tucking it into his jacket pocket. He pauses before closing the door behind him, hands closed into fists. His back is tense.

Shane raises an eyebrow. “You okay?” For a moment, it looks like a movie scene. An emotional reveal scene, of sorts. He decides it can’t be too serious. The lighting isn’t dramatic enough. 

“Um,” Ryan pivots on his heel, looking at Shane. His eyes are bewildered. “Yeah, I just…”

Shane’s mouth is dry, “Ryan?”

“I’m just gonna.” He takes a few steps forward, reluctant. “Is it okay if I - “ 

Shane is distracted, in his head - wondering what he should say, if he should leave, if he should go through with his whole hermit dream - when Ryan is suddenly much taller. He rocks up onto his toes, hand on Shane’s chest for balance, brushing his lips across Shane’s scruffy cheek. 

Ryan leaves Shane on the sidewalk as he runs inside, closing the door and locking it. He waves mischievously from behind the glass pane. 

It takes a moment for Shane to get his bearings. He feels his face get hot. Shane raps his knuckles on the glass, staring down at Ryan with a slowly growing grin. 

“You can’t just leave me out here after pullin’ a move like that!” Shane flattens his palm against the glass. Ryan stares at it, almost as if he’s considering putting his hand up as well. He doesn’t. 

“I can!” Ryan says. He scurries off into the dark room, and Shane can only shake his head. 

He had been with Ryan for nearly five years. They’d done _ much more _than kiss each other on the cheek. But the difference between now and then is that Shane had anticipated he’d never see Ryan again. Being able to see him, much less touch him, filled him with several emotions that… well, he wasn’t too fantastic at handling. 

The walk back to his car is a rough one - he stumbles over his feet a few times and finds himself short of breath. But one thought yells, distinct and hopeful, over the dysfunction his body seems to be shrouded in.

It’ll work out this time.


	5. Friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a bunch of dialogue ft. shane being a mess and also ryan being suspicious

There are very few moments that Shane can count in his own life in which he feels truly sick to his stomach. However, the terror that creeps up his throat upon passing Ryan’s apartment complex is unparalleled. 

He parks the car (terribly) in a spot a block down and sprints faster than he has in a decade until he’s just out of eyeshot. He doesn’t want Ryan to be too suspicious. 

There’s a U-Haul truck parked in Ryan’s guest spot. And a bunch of boxes. And Shane thinks he’s about to vomit.

Ryan is on the stoop, under the awning, struggling with a particularly large box labeled  _ IKEA  _ with thick Sharpie. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s a sight that nearly distracts Shane entirely. Shane’s feet are moving before his brain can command them to. 

“Hey,” Shane says. His voice is too wobbly for his liking. He stands over the box, scanning, trying to find an address. “Need help?”

“Oh, thanks!” Ryan watches as Shane lifts the other end of the box. His stressed disposition seems to melt away, “You always show up when I need you, don’t you?”

Shane doesn’t answer. He starts down the steps backward until he feels the terrain change, until he feels the ramp clank under his feet. With his shoe, he slides the box to the side of the truck, straightening his posture. His hands come to rest on his hips. “Are you moving?”

Ryan frowns up at him, “What? No.”

“Ah. Okay.” Shane takes a deep breath.

“Why would I - “

He exhales, “I don’t know, I just - “ Shane descends the metal ramp, eyes widening as Ryan kisses his cheek again.

“I’m here to stay,” Ryan says. He rubs Shane’s upper arm before gesturing to the nearly-full truck. “I just have to take a few things over to my friend’s place. He rented a new house awhile ago and he’s still got  _ no  _ furniture and I had a bunch of shit I needed to get rid of. So.”

“Ah.”  _ Friend? What friend? New friend? Old friend? More-than-a-friend-friend? _

“You’re doing the thing again.”

Shane snaps out of it. He’s still panting from panic and from physical exertion he hadn’t anticipated. “Need some company?”

Ryan seems surprised. “Uh, yeah! Wow. Thanks.” He looks around, “I think… I think that was the last of everything.”

“Mhmm.” Shane lays his palm over his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his shirt.

“So, we can probably head out, if you’re free right now.”

“Hm,” Shane drops his hand, “Always free for you.”

Shane has to hug his knees to his chest in the cramped cabin. The radio is static-y and immune to any channels other than Joel Osteen Mix or Alternative Banjo. He flips through the two channels for a few minutes until Ryan makes a dissatisfied grunt. Shane presses the power button with his thumb and slumps in the seat. 

“Cheer up, will you?” Ryan taps his fingers on the steering wheel, smiling toward the windshield. “You chose to come along.”

“I’m having a great time,” Shane murmurs, fiddling with the visor. “This friend. Of yours.”

Ryan hums reluctantly, not sure where Shane’s going with this. 

“What… is… their deal?” He lulls his head, squinting at the side of Ryan’s head. “What’s the name?”

“Adrian. His name’s Adrian.” Ryan scoffs, “ _ What’s their deal _ \- what does that even mean?”

_ Adrian.  _ Shane knows that name. Where does he know that name from? “Where’s he live?”

“You’re going to find out, you… weirdo.” Ryan gives a worried glance over to Shane, whose knees are pressed against the glove compartment. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” He sinks lower. 

“Ohhh,” Ryan nods slowly, his lips curling upwards. “I get it. You’re concerned.”

“A little,” Shane says. He grabs the handle and pulls himself up. “What if this…  _ friend  _ doesn’t take care of your furniture? It’s valuable, you know. You’ve gotta look into this stuff, Ber - uh, Ryan.”

“Shane, you  _ know  _ what I meant.” 

“You’re an adult,” Shane looks out the window, still trying to figure out who Adrian is in his head. “You can be friends with whomever you want.”

“Yeah, but you’re not concerned about me being  _ friends  _ with people, are you?”

Shane rolls his eyes, turning back to face him. “You’re self-aware. This isn’t fair.”

Ryan glances over at him once. Then twice. He remembers he has to look forward and does just that. “Wait.”

“Mm?”

“Are we…” Ryan cuts himself off with a laugh, hunching over the steering wheel. “Are we even…  _ more  _ than friends? I feel like we’ve skipped a step.”

Shane is mortally wounded. And a little bit of a drama queen. “You kiss all your friends on the cheek, then?”

Ryan’s mouth falls open. “How dare you.”

Shane messes with the AC knobs, nursing a little smile he can’t keep secret for too long. Progress feels good. This feels familiar again, in the best way possible. Familiar in the sense that it felt like those conversations early in their relationship (the first time around), before they’d fought and before Shane had become so terrified of change that he’d nearly shut down. Comfortable. 

“So,” he says, eventually. “We’re definitely more than friends.” It’s mostly not a question, but if Ryan seems to completely flip and say  _ what do you mean _ , he can turn it around on a dime.

Ryan nods, eyes bright as if to say  _ I like the sound of that.  _ He reaches into his pocket and hands Shane his phone.

“What?” Shane asks, taking it anyway. 

“My password is all zeroes.” Ryan doesn’t answer the question.

“Are you asking for my number?” Shane can’t contain his excitement. Well, he can. He tries to, anyway.

“Maybe. I need it, eventually. Can’t just have you stumbling around, looking for me.”

Before Shane can respond, they pull into the driveway of a brick house, and the man standing on the porch sets a fire inside Shane’s throat. Blue jeans, muscle shirt, neon yellow sneakers.

_ Oh….  _ ** _that _ ** _ Adrian.  _

[Adrian Peakes; bartender and part-time party foul. Only slightly taller than Ryan. Has been in love with Ryan for years. Has made jokes about their breakup, most certainly. Has never liked Shane. Is  _ definitely  _ not going to be pleased to see Shane, right now.]

Ryan hops out of the truck with the keys in his hands before Shane can even unbuckle, sprinting toward Adrian’s open arms. Shane tugs at the belt so hard it locks for a moment. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He can’t let Ryan see him like this. Or Adrian, for that matter. Ryan once told him that his jealousy was pretty aggravating. Shane’s only started to get his foot in the door, he can’t fuck it up now.

He steps out and onto the beige pavement. Adrian is halfway through an eternity’s worth of hugs when he glances up and sees him. He retracts himself within seconds. 

Shane walks over, one hand in his pocket with the other outreached for a handshake. The grin he’s sporting is entirely petty, but he can only revel in the terror on Adrian’s face. 

“Nice to meet ya,” he says. Adrian hesitantly takes his hand. Shane offers his firmest grip. Adrian matches it. “I’m Shane.”

“Adrian,” he squeezes tighter. Shane only smiles wider. Adrian drags his hand away. “Ryan, you left one of your shirts last time you came over - it’s on my dresser if you’d like to grab it.”

“Thanks!” Ryan’s eyes find Shane’s, an action telling him to  _ behave _ before he rushes through the front door. 

As soon as Ryan’s out of earshot, Adrian pounces. He squares his shoulders and points at Shane’s chest like a cartoon character. Shane finds it funny, but he doesn’t laugh.

“What the fuck, Shane?!” His voice is hushed, but his eyes are wild. Shane scoffs and sinks his hands into his pants pockets. “What are you doing here? With  _ him ?” _

“I... “ Shane says. He stares at the quaint house. He wouldn’t mind having one of those with Ryan. “I don’t know. He saw me… I... and I missed him, so.” There’s a lot more to it than that. But he’s overcome with jealousy and supreme dislike towards Adrian. How often had they hung out during those five months? What did they do? Not that it matters. It’s in the past. 

“That’s… you can’t do that, Shane. That’s… that can’t be okay, man.” He softens. He attempts to place a hand on Shane’s shoulder, but the tall man steps out of reach. “You have to know how fucked this is. He doesn’t want you anymore.”

Shane shrugs, “I love him.” As if that makes any sense, as if it’s a good reason. It’s neither of these things.

Ryan returns, floral Old Navy nonsense in his hand. He frowns at the two of them, motioning at them with the shirt. “What’s goin’ on, here?”

“Nothing,” Adrian and Shane say in unison. Shane smiles down at Adrian. Adrian glares back.

“Well,” Ryan says, clearly reading some uncomfortable vibes. “Truck’s not gonna unload itself.” He tosses the shirt to Shane. “Will you put that up in the cabin?”

“Aye, aye,” Shane salutes. Adrian keeps looking at him, but he ignores it, even as they pull out of his driveway 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm loopy on sleeping pills as i write this. please forgive me. i hope you're well


	6. Wallow.

The stuff that some people buy in these old shops bewilders and frightens Shane.

For about a month, he’s been dropping by the antique store around closing time, wandering around and assisting Ryan whenever needed until the store closes. In this time, the oddest items that have been sold that Shane’s identified are: three different “ancient skulls” with bullets protruding from the head like a mohawk, the door to an old Jeep, a collection of Ticonderoga pencils, and a utensil set from the 1880s. The local elite seem not to have much else to do but spend their money on heavy knick-knacks. 

They don’t go to dinner _ every _ time. Sometimes they just walk around for a moment, sometimes they grab a tea on the way back to Ryan’s. Shane hasn’t been _ in _ Ryan’s apartment yet - not since Ryan stopped being _ Ryan _\- but he always drops him off on the stoop. If he’s lucky, he gets a hug. But Ryan’s been pretty reserved, these days.

“Hey,” Ryan says, popping up behind him as he fiddles with a literal bundle of sticks. Shane feels Ryan’s palm on the small of his back. “I have to stay a few hours later to do inventory.”

Shane turns the sticks on their side. “That’s alright. I can wait.”

“Um,” Ryan rubs the back of his neck, “I was actually thinking… well. Not that I don’t want to spend time with you, but I can manage walking myself home this one time.”

Shane nods slowly, looking around (for Adrian, mostly, as he has no doubt that snake put the idea of distance into his Ryan’s head). He notices that Ryan’s wearing the shirt he likes. “Oh.” 

“Maybe we can get breakfast in the morning or something.” The corners of Ryan's eyes crinkle and Shane melts. “Besides, you look like you need some rest.”

“Ouch,” Shane says because it sounds more normal than anything else he can come up with. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re a real charmer.”

“You know it,” Ryan winks. He pats Shane’s arm. “Go home, Shane. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

No matter where Shane goes, there will always be a reminder of Ryan. 

Shane closes the car door, taking a long breath in through his nose before exhaling his head to his chest. He bought this car with Ryan at his side. He’d stood beside him and critiqued every bit of the vehicle down to the color, and it had been a hilarious bit at the time. 

The stick shift has a semi-permanent _ R _ written in thick Sharpie - only noticeable at an angle on the black faux-leather. Ryan had said, _ this car is just as much mine as it is yours _, and Shane had laughed and agreed. It was one of those moments Shane thinks of daily. Especially now, as he drives home alone. All this time to think.

To think of Ryan in the passenger seat. 

Of Ryan, on the porch of Adrian’s house. 

Of Adrian, saying, _ He doesn’t want you anymore. _

Of himself saying, _ I love him. _

Of the nightmares he’s had. 

Of the first time post-procedure-Ryan had entered Shane’s car, holding his paycheck in his hand, completely overlooking the _ R. _

[“I like this car,” Ryan had said.

“Yeah, I know.” Shane nearly closed his eyes in frustration at himself - _ be better at this, Shane, Jesus Christ - _but he was driving.

“You know?”

“I mean.” Shane shook his head, “Not sure why I said that. Guess I’m just projecting my interests onto you, or something.”

“Hm,” Ryan stared at the side of Shane’s face. He was catching on. Shane needed to be more careful. He couldn’t mess this up a second time.]

He's tired of thinking.

Shane decides that, if he were to go to his house, he would plan on wallowing. Wallowing in misery, of could-have-beens, of his apartment empty. There are plenty of locations better fit for wallowing. Locations with more people and more alcohol.

This side of town is saturated with bars. Only one of them has he been to with Ryan, The Social, so he chooses this one. There is a comfort in these places that offer a brief window of reminiscence. The vague landmarks, like certain worn-down stools or neon signs long dead, keep him grounded. 

He sits in the corner, taking a small booth all to himself as if he’s in a movie. The speakers are playing a Gavin DeGraw Spotify radio playlist and he thinks he might combust. 

It feels like moments, seconds even, that he sits there. A blink or a breath’s worth of time. But it must take hours because Ryan, of course, finds him. He’s a drink and a half in, prepared to spiral completely, when he hears the very voice he can never escape.

“I knew it was you!” Shane nearly spills his drink all over himself, eyes wide and turned to stare at Ryan. Ryan is grinning so wide, his face might tear. “I knew I recognized - well, it’s a little worrying that I can recognize the back of your head from outside, but.”

“I could recognize the back of your head,” Shane says into his glass. Ryan must not hear him.

“The finder has been found,” Ryan changes the subject, sliding across from him. Shane knows it’s meant to be a joke, that he’s trying to cheer him up even without much information on how to do it, but he can’t seem to respond cheerfully. 

“Hey,” he replies. 

Ryan’s face twists up. It’s a visually funny limbo between confusion and pity. “What’s up?”

“Just, uh.” Shane says, running a hand through his hair. “Wallowing, I guess.”

“What’s got ya wallowin’, then?” Ryan leans closer. He seems better, less stressed than earlier. “Work?”

Shane opens his mouth to respond. Ryan’s eyes light up.

“Where do you even work?” Ryan looks appalled at himself. “God, Shane. I know _ nothing _about you.”

_ That’s the problem _, Shane thinks. He only smiles to the best of his ability. “Not much to know, Ryan.”

“I beg to differ,” Ryan scoffs. “What has it been, four months we’ve been together - I don’t know where you work. Shit, Shane! I don’t even know your last name!”

“Madej,” Shane mumbles. 

“Excuse me?”

“Shane Madej,” Shane releases his grip (tight, nearly bruising) on his glass to hold his hand out across the table. Ryan stares at it for a moment. “Nice to meet you.”

Ryan laughs and nods, accepting the shake. “Ryan Bergara. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

“Bergara,” Shane sighs with a nod. _ Finally. _“Good name.”

“Thanks.” Ryan draws shapes on the table for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re very good at distracting me.”

“Hm?” Shane’s posture improves immediately, a string pulled through his spine. “What do you mean?”

“You looked down in the dumps when I came over here, and you’re so quick to just… sweep that stuff under the rug,” Ryan rests his head on his hand, scanning over Shane like he’s looking for a clue. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sad.”

Shane chuckles. He fears, if he hadn’t, the only other option would be to cry. “Well, thank you.”

“Shane.” Ryan gives him a serious look that Shane’s seen hundreds of times. “Please.”

“I… ugh,” Shane leans back in his seat, letting the back of his head hit the top of the booth seat. “This is embarrassing, Ryan. Just let me wallow in peace.”

“You know, you have to tell me things. That’s how we keep things equal.”

“I vote for an unequal relationship.” Shane catches Ryan’s glare and shakes his head. “It’s… it’s about my… I guess, my old Soulmate. Alright? That should be enough.” It's snappy, short. He feels sour.

Ryan’s glare fades. “Oh.” He looks down at the table. “Sorry, Shane.”

“No, no.” Shane covers his face with his hands. “It’s okay. I’m being jerky.”

“I don’t wanna press you - “

“I mean, we’ve gotta talk about it at some point.” Shane needs to get out of here. But he needs to get that look off of Ryan’s face as soon as possible. “It’s alright, I’m just… you know. I’m a disaster.”

“What happened with your…” Ryan blinks. 

“I…” Shane presses his fingers into his eyes. His voice is already receding into his throat. Gavin De Graw is still playing and it’s almost comical. “Eh. Awhile ago, he wiped his memory.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it was…” Shane blows out a long breath. He can’t look at Ryan for too long. He feels stupid. “Uh. I was… damn. I was fine, I thought. But… I don’t know. Just thinking about things. Like what you’d have to do to someone for them to want to forget you.”

Ryan lets out a shaky sigh. “What did you do?”

Shane frowns. “Does it matter?”

“Might help, you know. To get it out.” Ryan offers a smile, clearly concerned. Shane can tell he’s nervous - anticipating some terrible thing that Shane’s done. 

“I didn’t… I’m just so terrible at being consistent, I guess.”

Ryan’s shoulders fall lax. “That’s not too bad.”

“I - “ Shane leans closer to him as if to drive the point home. “You’d think so, I guess. It doesn’t sound… uh. It sounds like an inconvenience but… you… eh.” He slides his glass toward himself and lifts it to his lips. Just a break from talking. It clatters down on the table. “I get these lows… like, I’m just a… pillowy… thing. I couldn't do the little things, like decide where to eat that night. It all built up, I suppose. Can’t make decisions, can’t leave the house, can’t be consistently supportive.”

Ryan stands up and Shane stops breathing. _ [Has he remembered? Is he leaving?] _His breath returns when Ryan slides into the booth beside him, taking his hand. Tears threaten to fall, but as soon as Ryan links their fingers, Shane feels like he could fly. 

“You… well. My Soulmate had to make all these decisions because I was so…” Shane’s voice is wet as he motions to his surroundings, “Wallowy, probably.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ryan says, knocking his shoulder against Shane’s. “You don’t seem too wallowy to me.”

“I’m just… terrible at… this.” Shane says quietly. “This whole relationship thing. The emotions and… investment, I guess. Makes me panic. Makes me freak out… I don’t know.”

“I’m the same way,” Ryan tries to empathize.

“No, you’re not,” Shane mumbles. 

“How do you know that?” Ryan is pouting and Shane has to look away before he grabs his face with both hands and kisses him. “You’ve only known me for four-ish months.”

“Told you, I’m a magic man.” Shane rests his temple against the top of Ryan’s head. He sighs. “Thanks, Ryan. I love… uh, this. Talking to you. Helps.”

“Yeah. ‘Course, Shane.” Ryan kisses Shane’s shoulder. “You need to talk more. I’ll listen, always.”

“Means a lot.”

“It’s not fair.” Ryan huddles even closer. “You know everything about me and I know nothing about you.”

Shane just nods, squeezing his hand tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol six chapters in and we get a [second] meeting
> 
> also. i know there are a lot of ellipses in the dialogue but shane's fragmented and he's bad at talking oh no


	7. Trust.

Shane knocks roughly on Ryan’s door. With his palm, like an absolute animal.

[He’s been having these terrible dreams, seemingly prophetic, of Ryan with all-black eyes standing in his bedroom, dragging him from the bed and into the SRD clinic. Strapping him to the chair. Telling him it’s better this way.]

Shane’s mind during the drive to Ryan’s was empty. He hadn’t considered any excuses, any reasons for showing up other than the fact that he _ had a bad dream.  _ How pathetic. How strong he used to be, especially around Ryan, and now he’s demoted himself to a puddle of insecurity that slips through each defensive wall Shane has put up over the five years prior.

He sincerely hadn’t thought of a reason how he’d located Ryan’s apartment until he set foot on the welcome mat outside. Even now as he pounds his fist on the door, he hasn’t got much. The only plan he has is to tell Ryan he  _ stumbled upon  _ the right door after a few dozen failed tries. But that would only work if Ryan was stupid, which he isn’t. 

Ryan opens the door after a few noisy minutes, rubbing his eyes. Shane almost feels bad for waking him, but the wash of relief overpowers it. His hair is all tussled. It takes a moment for him to recognize who is standing there, “... Shane?”

“Hi, sorry, I just… I had a… uh. I just missed you, is all.” Shane leans down and kisses Ryan’s head before slipping around him and into the main room of his apartment. “Do you have tea? It’s pretty late for coffee, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know my apartment number?” Ryan asks though he closes the door anyway.

“You told me, didn’t you?” Shane walks to the kitchenette, rifling through the cabinet to find the mugs. He can’t seem to find the one he used to drink out of all the time, but he realizes that it was probably destroyed after the procedure. Too many memories of Shane. This nearly makes Shane laugh - a mug in the cabinet would be less damaging than Shane’s entire forearm. “Thought you did.”

“No, can’t say that I did,” Ryan follows, slower, nursing his own warm mug. 

“Well, I guess it’s good that I’m brilliant.” Shane settles on a bright red one and sets it down on the counter. He turns to see Ryan, smiling softly at him. “What?”

“You’re a crazy person,” Ryan says. He may not be stupid, but he’s certainly overlooking some key red flags. Shane is glad he got to him before anyone else could. He cringes. That’s not a good thing to think. 

“What? No, I’m not.” Shane flips the tap on, blindly grabbing the teapot from where Ryan has always and will always keep it. “Or maybe  _ you’re  _ the crazy one.”

“I don’t show up unannounced to your apartment at one in the morning.”

“ _ One  _ in the morning?” Shane frowns, eyes locating the digital clock on the stove. “Oh. I didn’t realize it was that late.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan takes a long sip of tea. “I’m just making my case.”

“Case made.” Shane turns the knob for the stovetop, placing the teapot on the front right burner. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ryan shakes his head, slowly making his way across the room. “It’s fine, I’m just grumpy. You’d know that, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Shane smiles as Ryan settles in front of him, reaching around him to set his mug down on the countertop. “I’ll call ahead next time. Just felt urgent.”

“You’re sure you just missed me?” Ryan’s concern is jarring in the best way possible. 

“I... “ Shane shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Shane…”

“It’s stupid.”

“Can’t be  _ that  _ stupid. You put a lot of effort into coming over here.” Ryan gets closer, somehow. “You need to stop invalidating yourself, you… idiot.”

Shane raises his eyebrows. That was a new one. Well, not entirely new. 

“It was just a bad dream,” Shane says. Ryan nods, pressing him to go further. “I just… I don’t want to lose you. Which is…  _ yikes _ , I…”

Ryan wraps his arms around Shane’s torso, cheek pressed against his chest. The teapot screams. Shane hugs back with a long sigh. Safe.

“How hard was that?” Ryan’s voice is muffled. “You won’t lose me, Shane. I’m right here.”

“Yeah, for now.” Shane squeezes his eyes shut. He shouldn’t have said that. What a passive-aggressive thing to say. 

“You won’t lose me,” he says again. “Not now, not ever. You trust me, right?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “ _ Yes.  _ Jesus, yeah. Of course.”

“Then trust me with this.” Ryan pokes him in the chest before escaping his grip. “I’m glad you came over. I was missing you too.”

Shane pretends not to notice all the blood rushing to his face. “That’s good.”

Ryan steps away, taking his mug back. He smiles. “You should probably make your tea, now.”

Shane squares his shoulders, “I don’t know. I like the sound of screaming at one in the morning.” He turns to take the teapot off of the stove anyway. “Whatever.”

Shane looks over his shoulder, half-expecting Ryan to have gone back to his room to sleep, hoping that he can get away with a quick nap on the couch. But Ryan is still standing there, looking him over, considering something. 

“You know what?” Ryan says.

Shane grabs a spoon to stir his tea, turning around to face Ryan completely. “Hm?”

“I think… Here’s my plan,” Ryan sets his mug on the nearest surface. “I’m going to walk over to you, okay?”

Shane squints, “... Mhm?”

“And I’m going to kiss you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” Ryan has his hands on his hips. “Then, you and I are going to go into my room and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Okay,” Shane takes a long sip of tea. Mostly to smother whatever jubilant scream might be crawling up the back of his throat.

So Ryan does. And they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some filler, some dialogue. this chapter and the next may be shorter, i'm excited to get to the end.


	8. Scar.

Shane hasn’t seen the back of Ryan’s head in a long time. He hadn’t seen it much before. They always walked together, stood together. It was a rarity. But now, as he stares at the nape of Ryan’s neck, he wishes he’d seen it more. 

They’d shaved his head to get into his brain. [The concept is still a raw spot in his mind, unwilling to accept it.] It’s grown back quite a bit by now, but there’s still a clear difference in length on the rest of his head. The scar from the incision is still visible underneath. Shane reaches out and traces it with his index finger. Ryan only stirs slightly. 

There are only so many days left that he can keep going with this. He’s followed Ryan onto a train of sorts, knowing the final stop would kill him but glad to take the risk due to the hours of distance between himself and the destination. At some point, Ryan will find out. Adrian will call him, or the post-procedure clean up may have missed a spot, and everything will come rushing back [and Shane will step out onto the tracks, so to speak]. 

“What’re you doing?” Ryan asks, craning his neck around as far as it’ll go. His eyes aren’t yet open, but he’s already smiling. 

“Don’t know. Probably being weird.” Shane retrieves his hands back to his side of the bed, curling into himself. Ryan turns over on his other side, facing him. “G’morning.”

“Morning,” he stretches and Shane dodges a fist. “What’s your day look like?”

_I was hoping we could just lay here and you would let me look at you_, Shane doesn’t say.

“Gotta head home in awhile.” The feeling of avoided retribution settles in his stomach [as if the small act of parting from Ryan once will offset the course into chaos] and he takes a deep breath. “Stuff to do. Things to edit.”

Ryan nods, his face mushed against his pillow. “You know, I haven’t been to your place yet.”

“Yeah,” Shane says dumbly. They hadn't taken all of the reminders from his apartment. Ryan would remember. “You should. Sometime.”

“Well, I’ll need the address. Not everyone is a magic man who can guess his way through life.” Ryan smiles, but Shane can still see the remnants of concern in the one eye he manages to open.

“I’ll get it to you.”

“Welp,” Ryan drags himself to sit up, reaching for his glasses. “I need to go to the store to return my LeBron book.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Thought you had to work.”

“Benefit of semi-self-employment, and all that jazz.” Shane rolls out of bed, tearing his eyes away. Ryan has always been so handsome, but the glasses never get old. “Plus I need to spend more time with you.”

“_More_?” Ryan asks, dumbfounded.

“I mean,” Shane looks over his shoulder at Ryan. “If that’s… was that…?”

“Okay? Yeah, ‘course. Just surprised,” Ryan shrugs. “Not used to spending this much time with anyone.”

“Oh.” It takes every fiber in Shane’s being not to say, _yes, you are. _“Uh, I can always see you later tonight.”

“No, no. I want you to come with me,” Ryan scrunches his nose up, letting his arms fall slack into his lap. There’s a thud against the comforter. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all the worst places. It’s adorable. “Yeah. You should come with me. I like… I wasn’t saying I didn’t _like _spending time with you, because I _so_ do, but like… just takes some getting used to.

“I can kinda get it. Social stamina, or something,” Shane grabs for his jeans. “Do you… I can make coffee?”

“You know where it is?” He doesn’t sound doubtful anymore.

“I… can figure it out.”

“Right,” Ryan presses his lips together. “Hm, a little bit wouldn’t hurt. But I think… well, sometimes, I have an addiction.”

Shane laughs. He’s heard that before. “Alright. I’ll go easy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter. same old tradition of seemingly wrapping up things before dialing the angst up to 11.


	9. Puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go.

Shane wakes up appallingly late [nearly five in the afternoon] alone for the first time in a long while, finding Ryan gone with a note in his place. 

_[Gone to doctor. Checkups, :P. See you later.]_

This has been fun. This normality thing. This _domestic_, normality thing they have going. Sleeping in the same bed, attached at the hip until an immovable force parts them [which is not often]. Shane is hesitant to call it familiar – if he would, he might break the luck and wake Ryan up from his deep sleep. Instead, he’ll call it _nice. _Or _safe. _As soon as it’s _familiar_, it’s over.

He has a few things to do, today. Some work to do [after months of putting it off in favor of Ryan], some apartment cleaning [of reminders, of course, for Ryan] to do, some shopping to do [a book for Ryan]. Tomorrow is _one year_ together. One year, the second time around. [Six years, technically, together. Shane counts the time they spent apart. He likes to think that, if Ryan remembered, he would too.]

When his feet finally touch the cold floor, he grabs around for something that feels like cloth. He throws on something he finds on the floor, whatever’s closest. He doesn’t need to look good, right now. Fashion can wait.

He walks home, leaving his car in the space outside of Ryan’s place. For the first hour of preparations for the future, he feels confident in his decision to plan for _more_ – more time with Ryan, more wasting his life away at his apartment, more, more, more.

The second hour is the same.

The third, doubt settles in. Again.

Shane wipes his forehead, kneeling on the ground by his bed, fist tight around a white trash bag full of memories [distinct pillowcases, broken-down lampshades, mugs, pairs of reading classes he could manage to replace in a less memorable color]. He sits back on his ankles. The top-most layer of hope begins to peel back. [_Maybe I should have just let him go._] The thought is brushed off quickly – every time the dread has crept up his spine over the past year, he’s managed to escape it - this time will be no different.

By the time he’s walked out to the dumpster outside, he decides he should move on to something else. Being home alone makes him think too much. If he doesn’t keep moving, he’ll sink and fucking die. Like a shark. [_Do sharks drown_?]

Four hours out in the real world. The bookshop is crowded, even though it’s so late in the evening. Apparently, they’re closing soon. Permanently, according to the crème banner strung across the front windows. He decides not to see it as a sign [an omen] and enters anyway. He beelines to the back, still a somewhat sacred settlement (empty), and scans for something particularly _Ryan. _Something special. About love and junk.

He decides on _Love: Selected Poems by E. E. Cummings. _Kill two birds with one stone or something. Tell Ryan he loves him, _finally_, and they can ride off into the sunset. Ryan is his moon, his sun, and all of his stars.

“Do you have a trade voucher?” The kid working the register asks. He’s still leafing through the wad of tips he’s gotten over the day. He must be new.

“No. It’s a gift.”

“Right.” He holds his hand out. Shane is too focused on keeping his fear down in his stomach to be offended. He places a $10 in the kid’s palm.

“That’s all for you,” he says. He feels homesick. He watches the kid wrap the book in brown paper, tied up with a twine bow.

After five hours away from Ryan, he starts back in the direction of Ryan’s apartment with his parcel under his arm. He gets a text from Ryan: _headed home <3_

It’s about a fifteen-minute walk. He takes his time. Shane isn’t comfortable being in Ryan’s space without Ryan yet – there used to be things he’d do [read the weird magazines on the coffee table, arrange the fridge magnets] but all the props have been removed. It’s better to wait for Ryan, most of the time.

When he opens the door, he spots Ryan’s keys on the sofa cushions, a couple of papers strewn on the floor. He eyes them carefully, stepping closer. He sees the title. He frowns. [_How to Reestablish Love Following A Cerebral Cleanse … In as Little as 7 Days._]

“Ryan?” Shane calls anyway, setting the book on the coffee table. “You back yet, little guy?”

“In here.”

Shane follows his voice and the sound of running water into the bedroom. He tosses his jacket onto the bed. “How was your checkup?”

The bathroom door is ajar, Ryan in his boxers and t-shirt facing the mirror. He’s brushing his teeth. “Went well. I’m all good.”

“That’s a relief,” Shane sits down on the mattress, the coils groaning. “Thought you might be dying or something.”

“Funny story,” Ryan says, changing the subject, voice muffled from toothpaste. “I called my mom on the way back here.”

“Yeah?” Shane crosses his ankles, watching Ryan’s back as he brushes his teeth. It’s tense. Shane frowns. 

“Yeah, I told her about the checkup. And about _Just Kids_,” he leans down to spit, shutting the faucet off. “And I told her about my boyfriend, Shane.”

Shane pauses. “Yeah?” Weird phrasing.

[Mrs. Bergara is a lovely woman. She and Shane share a common interest in crocheting. She has tried to teach him how to do it on multiple occasions, but he is a disaster. He helps with color choices, during the holidays]

“I said, ‘Yeah, his name is Shane.’ And do you want to know what she said?” He laughs, but it isn’t real. “She said, ‘Madej?’ Like she knew you, or something. How crazy.”

Shane chokes on the air. “Oh. She did?”

Ryan finally turns around. Shane wishes he hadn’t.

Ryan’s eyes are dark around the corners. [Shane can picture his dream, again. Ryan with dark eyes, standing in his bedroom.] He stares at Shane, cold, the light from the bathroom outlining his silhouette with inconsistent yellow strokes. His eyes, profoundly disappointed and tired, are finally _familiar_ again. Shane would give anything not to recognize them. 

[They are the same eyes that told him nearly a year ago, “We need to take some time. A lot of time. Away from each other. I can’t do this anymore.”]

[Eyes that accompanied Shane’s last ever look at Ryan before he got a chance to start over.]

“At the doctor today,” Ryan says softly, so soft and so delicate and so painful. “He said I’ve been… that I had a cerebral cleanse, or whatever.”

Shane stills all movement, palms braced against the bed. “Did he, now.”

“I’ve already met my Soulmate. And it was _you _the whole fucking time...“ He can’t seem to look at Shane for too long. It makes Shane feel disgusting. He can’t just sit here and watch this happen, but he also knows he has to. The grave he sits in was dug for himself, and he’ll pry his eyes open for just long enough to watch Ryan shovel the dirt in. It’s all he can offer, his attention. All he’s got left.

“Ryan - “

“All this time I told myself, _he’s just a little weird -_ it was _you _the whole time - “

“Please. Ryan, _please_, God, don’t do this to me. Not yet - “

Ryan runs a hand over his face, “Holy shit, this is so embarrassing.”

“Ryan.”

“Let me think, please,” Ryan holds a hand up, and Shane stares at it. Shane’s mouth is agape, tears brimming. He can’t imagine how he looks to Ryan. [Pitiful.] “Let me finish _talking_, and _then _you can start with your… your jokes and your charm, okay? But it’s my turn, right now. I think I’m entitled.”

Shane doesn’t say a word. 

“I’ve got… I’ve got pieces to a puzzle and I just…” He makes a vague gesture outward, “I’m putting them together, and I’m… they’re making a lot of sense and none at all.”

Shane hums. He picks at the hem of his shirt, averting his attention.

“You know so much about me, don’t you?” Ryan’s voice is watery. Shane can’t stomach this. Not again. “You knew where I work, where I live… you knew _Adrian, _didn’t you? He recognized you, didn’t he?”

Shane gnaws on the inside of his cheek. He should just leave. He should leave and go to the clinic, and he should request that they drop him off in the middle of the Himalayas. 

“And… the… the _mugs, _and you knew how I felt about that _stupid _book.” Ryan runs his hands through his hair, “It was such a little… a simple detail, but I thought about it for days.”

There’s a moment where all Shane can hear is the buzz of the air conditioner and Ryan’s unsteady breathing.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Ryan asks, finally. Shane makes eye contact again - if not to respond, to look at Ryan for a while before he loses him a second time.

Shane knows there’s a right answer, one that Ryan is looking for. Searching for, those eyes piercing through to Shane’s skull. He sighs. His hands feel heavy. His shoulders sag. 

“Probably not,” he says quietly. He laughs. It is a sad noise. “If it ain’t broke. Right?”

Ryan’s shell crumbles. He lifts his arms, his hands to his face. He scrubs his eyes with his fingertips, body language for _I can’t believe this is happening to me, right now_. Shane only watches him, allowing his cautious smile to fall from his lips. Time to face reality.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out.” It sounds like a plea.

Ryan seems to be feeling a lot of things. Shane can understand all of them. He can understand why Ryan would be angry, why he’d want Shane out. He can understand the frustration and confusion. But he can’t understand the hope in his eyes. 

“What if I don’t want to?” Ryan says, on the cusp of giving up.

“Then I can… uh, I can leave,” Shane says. He pushes himself to stand, unsteady on his feet. He grasps his jacket in his hand as he does. He hasn’t blinked in a while. His eyes are dry again. “And I won’t bother you anymore, I promise. I won’t… I’m sorry, Ryan.”

Ryan sighs. He looks up to the ceiling like a prayer. “You said you love me, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t want to answer. This is a trap.

“When you were standing out there with Adrian. You said you love me.” Ryan’s voice is louder, surer. “Didn’t you?”

Shane frowns, “You don’t believe me?”

“I mean, you’ve lied about everything else.”

“That’s not fair.” 

“Did I love you too?” The words are a sucker punch to the stomach. His eyes grow blurry.

“I might be biased,” Shane realizes how close he is to Ryan. “But yeah. You did.”

“So why didn’t we work out?”

“I already told you.” Shane holds a hand out, not sure why, but Ryan takes it anyways. “I told you, in the bar. Remember?”

Ryan gives him hope. His eyes, scanning and searching for proof that he can trust the man standing in his bedroom. “Yeah, I remember.” Every second that passes makes Shane feel more secure. “Yeah…” He sounds convinced.

“Please,” Shane hears himself say.

“I just.” Ryan has his hand on Shane’s chest. He seems to like doing that a lot. “I… if I didn’t want you last time… I shouldn’t want you this time.” He retreats, removing his hand instead to rest on the back of his own neck. He must be tracing his scar.

Shane nods. He feels a tear getting ready to fall and presses his palm over his eye before it can escape. “Okay.” His jacket slips from his fingers, falling to a puddle on the floor. His voice is struggling so hard to sound calm. Shane’s failing. Shane sounds manic. He doesn’t know what to do. “Okay.” [_What do I do? Where do I go?_ ]

It’s almost as if a bomb has gone off. Everything turns off except for his sight, which is limited as is, and he starts for the door, hand still over his eye. He’s not going to cry. He’s not going to overreact. He’s just going to _walk_. He’s just going to _go. _He tells himself this in full confidence, even as the first of many tears hit his cheeks. 

“Be safe,” he can hear Ryan say as he stumbles through the door and into the hallway. Always caring, even at a time like this. He doesn’t _want _to be safe. All of the breaths he tries to take get caught in his throat. He _wants _Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more chapters to gooooooooo lmao
> 
> i love writing fights wow. i am a disaster


	10. Ryan.

Ryan waits a moment.

A few minutes.

To wake up, maybe. 

He stares at the door, still wide open, almost waiting for Shane to step back into view and shrug with that goofy smile on his face [to say, “Just kidding!”]. Shane doesn’t return, though. So Ryan walks, carefully, to the doorway. He walks on his _tiptoes, _like he’s scared to be caught. Out into the living room, towards the front entrance. He glances out into the hallway. No sign of him. [Let the record show, he wants to be _relieved_. But he feels surprisingly empty.]

Everything is quiet now. Just him and the air conditioner. And Shane’s jacket on the floor. And the package on the couch that Ryan doesn’t remember being there when he got home.

Ryan sits on the couch. [Or, he walks back to his bedroom, lifts Shane’s jacket from the ground, holds it to his face, pulls it over his shoulders, walks back to the living room, and sits on the couch.] The wrapping paper is rough he takes it into his hands, into his lap. Firm. He hooks his fingers under the seam and tears through, getting immediately frustrated by the twine in the way. Ryan bites through it with his teeth. He pushes the scraps onto the floor, staring down at the book in his hands. [_Love: Selected Poems by E. E. Cummings_.]

_You never read E. E. Cummings? _Ryan can hear Shane say. He jumps, looking around for the tall man. He’s still gone. The door is still closed. It would be a weird thing to hear Shane say, anyways. When had they ever talked about poetry?

He hugs the book tight and takes a deep breath. The jacket smells like Shane [the stupidly expensive sandalwood stuff that he always insists on getting]. He tucks his nose into the collar.

_This is stupid, _a voice in his head says. It sounds like him. _How stupid can it be? _Another voice. Shane.

Ryan frowns, sitting up. He looks down at the book. A transistor radio seems to be inside his head, feeding Shane’s voice out of every channel.

_Just hold my hand, Bergara. It’s alright. You can do it. _

There’s a sound of wind. Like they’re high up somewhere. He can still feel the couch underneath him.

_I can’t do it! Shane, I’m gonna fall!_

_You’re not gonna fall. I’ve got you._

Ryan squeezes his eyes closed. His fingers grab at the back of his neck. It hurts. It _aches_, red-hot, under the skin. His skull feels like it’s being cracked open. His body falls back, heavy into the couch cushions. [Is this what a stroke feels like? Am I dying?]

_What do you mean, ‘you can’t do this anymore?’_

[Oh.] His head feels incredibly… full. His thumb brushes over his skin, feeling the ridges of the scar that he is now very aware of.

_Ryan, please. Please, just stay. Stay, I’ll be better. _

[We were in Shane’s apartment. The air conditioning was broken.]

_I can’t do this without you, Ry. _

[He was wearing his Arctic Monkeys shirt and jeans. And his glasses. Whatever happened to those? Did he break them? I told him to be careful.]

_I can’t do this anymore, Shane. I need to go._

_Ryan…_

[I remember.]

The pain subsides. His ears are still buzzing, his head still throbbing with aftershocks. The world has stopped spinning.

Everything has shifted. His head is full and his apartment is empty. His head is full of Shane and his apartment is completely devoid of him. For a long moment, he stays pinned to the couch. Part of him wants to stay there for a century or two, just mulling over the things he’s lost, stuck to the cushions. The second, more persuasive part wants him to _stand up _and _get him_. He has his shoes on in fractions of a second.

The hallway is a lot more special, now, as he sprints through it and down the stairs.

He can pinpoint precise dates and times, specific kisses and fights, assigned to different landmarks in the wallpaper. [Shane made note of the same stains in the carpet every time they chose not to ride the elevator.] He skips the last four steps and practically throws his body into the glass door. Things aren’t moving _fast _enough. He has to find Shane _now_. Sure, the effort is made easier now that he knows all of Shane’s hiding places, but time seems to have clipped fifty-pound weights to his ankles.

Ryan’s sneakers skid on the dark sidewalk. The shops are dark. [Shane and I go there.]

He remembers. [He remembers the way Shane looked in the mornings. Shirtless with his hair tussled. He remembers how Shane would groan and cover his eyes when Ryan would turn on the lamp.] Oh, _God. _[Morning kisses! He misses those.]

He looks around, tries to orient himself. His legs have been controlling him for a few minutes, now. Muscle memory. Shane’s apartment is somewhere over here. Right? [It must be late. Hardly anyone is out here. How long was I just _sitting_ up there?]

Before he can run in the direction he believes is correct, he pauses. He sees a light on in the clinic window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	11. Shane.

People are heading home. The streetlights have been on for some time. There is only so long he can stand here, staring helplessly up at Ryan’s apartment as if waiting for a cue.

He’s been hoping for some sort of miracle ending, like Ryan would open his window and shout down to him, or something. But it’s been at least an hour. Maybe two. And his feet are starting to ache, and his breath is starting to catch in his chest as he realizes how this is going to go. [It _isn’t _going to go. No farther. He has to open the train window and throw himself out of it before it crashes into the nearest wall.]

Shane finally starts walking. Finally walking away, for good. It is a struggle not to glance backward, but the pain he’d experience should he look back and find the sidewalk empty is not worth the risk. He knows Ryan isn’t coming.

He grabs his phone, slipping his free hand into the pocket it occupied. His phone clicks as it unlocks. _How many times can you get a cerebral cleanse? _he types. The answer is, of course, _once_. Guilt wracks his body. The front of his shoe gets caught on the concrete and he stumbles forward, just slightly. He quickens his pace.

_Was it worth it?_ He’s had intrusive thoughts before. _You ruined it. _Hell, he’s had them quite often. _Just couldn’t keep yourself out of his head. _All he has, now, are intrusive thoughts. They pull at the inside of his head, making his skin hurt. _Get him out of yours. It’s for the best. _

He stops eventually. He recognizes the bench. Recognizes this spot. He’s found himself standing here a lot, in the past year or so. Staring up at the grey building and picturing a life without Ryan, always deciding that it wasn’t worth it. [Last time, Ryan stopped him before he could go in.]

Shane shoulders his way into the clinic. The door is unlocked.

He supposes most people see the word _CLOSED _in the window and tell themselves it’s a sign from God. Not today. The nurse [?] behind the desk frowns down at her magazine, “We’re closed.”

“I saw.” He clenches his fists at his sides. He had previously told himself [on the long walk from Ryan’s place to the clinic] that he wasn’t going to cry. But he figures now is a good time. “Please.” His fingernails are slicing into his palms. The pitiful sound of his voice catches her attention. She glances up. “I need to do this now. Or else I… I don’t know what else to do.”

There’s a beat. The fluorescent lights flicker. [It’s cold, in here.]

Her eyes are soft. Empathetic. Thank God. [She’s probably new.] “I… I can call the surgeon. Not sure if he’ll want to come back after hours…” She hesitantly picks up the phone. Shane watches her, letting the tears slowly slide down either side of his nose. He can’t see her dial the phone on the desk but he can hear her manicured nails tap against the digits. “It’ll take him a while to get here… but… It’s worth a try.”

“Thanks.”

She rifles through a drawer, phone smushed against her cheek. She pulls out a packet and flops it onto the counter, sliding it towards him. He takes a few shaky steps forward. [Everything smells like popsicle sticks.] “Fill these out, please.” The nurse places a pen on top. He takes the warm paper in his hands. “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask – oh, hello, Dr. Morris. So sorry to call you so late - ”

Shane grabs a clipboard on the way to a seat. He sits in the chair that’s unbearably close to the window as if to half-escape from the reality of the situation. The window that his elbow brushes against as he writes his name at the top is one he’s stared through many times. Odd, to be inside. To fulfill somewhat of a reflection.

_Your full name: Shane Alexander Madej_

_Your Soulmate’s full name: Ryan Steven Bergara_

Shane stares at the blank lines below for a good minute. So many questions. He taps the pen against his lips. From where he sits under the vent, his cheeks feel stiff and cold, his tears dry only to quickly be replaced. [Where are all of these tears coming from? I haven’t put water in my body in months.]

_Would you like to return to your home address following the procedure? Yes / No_

He isn’t sure.

“You sure you can’t wait until tomorrow?” The nurse has the phone against her chest, peering over the counter at him expectantly.

Shane frowns. He doesn’t want to be impolite. But he’ll pay extra. Anything to get this over with. He shakes his head slowly.

She offers him an empathetic nod and holds the phone to her ear to murmur a small, “No, he’s certain.”

[He wonders what Ryan’s doing. Even the concept of the thought has his stomach in his throat. Has he gone to bed? Is he still thinking about Shane? Is he just watching TV? Is he happier this way? That’s all Shane ever wanted, him to be happy. No – more than that, Shane wanted Ryan to be happy while he could still be in his life to experience it. This was not good.]

_If your answer is no: _

_Where would you like to be returned following your procedure?_

[He writes: _Just… drop me off in the middle of Antarctica or something, please._]

He takes a long breath in through his nose, a pitiful sniff, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe it isn’t the end of his world and the end of the universe, or the tiled floor of the clinic isn’t threatening to open up and swallow him whole. But that’s how it feels. And he can’t get through the damn packet fast enough.

Shane sees movement in the corner of his eye, someone walking past the window – wait. The figure doesn’t walk completely past. Instead, it seems to slow and stop right beside him. Shane attempts a glance upwards.

Ryan looks down at him, wearing his jacket, eyebrows drawn tight over his eyes. [Correction: wearing Shane's jacket and no pants.]

“What are you doing?” Ryan asks quietly, barely audible through the glass. He sounds incredibly upset. And a little out of breath. “Shane…?”

Shane is completely assured that this is a hallucination. He just looks back to his clipboard. This is just cruel.

_Have you ever had brain surgery before?_ _Yes / No**.**_

Ryan knocks at the glass again. It’s a sad sound. “Shane, hey. Hey. Stop that.” He leans his forehead against the glass to read.

The noise of the nurse’s chair wheels fills the room as she rolls out from behind her desk. She points a manicured finger, “Who’s that?”

“That’s my Soulmate,” Shane says. He doesn’t look up from the clipboard. 

“Oh…” She says though she doesn’t respond further.

[Ryan is kneeling under the awning, practically pressing his face to the glass. Shane is a foot away. If the glass weren’t there, he could reach him. The glass rattles when he slams his fist on it, so shitty that he can hear through it.]

“Don’t do this. Please. I’m here. I’m here now.”

Shane rubs his forehead with his fingers, checking boxes without paying much attention. “I’m glad you’re here, but I can’t go through this again, you know. I’ve lost you twice.” He stands, moving to walk to the front desk. “Even if both times were my fault.”

Time moves weirdly. Shane knows that it’s passing, but it doesn’t feel familiar. His steps seem lethargic, reluctant.

Ryan bangs his palms on the door, the cuffs of Shane’s hoodie muffling the noise. “I _remember_, Shane.”

Shane pauses. He looks over his shoulder. Slow motion.

Ryan scrambles to his feet. “I swear - I remember when we bought your car, and I made fun of the color even though I loved it! Shane, I _love _the color.” Shane sighs, heavy. Ryan continues, “And! I remember when we met in the bookshop the first time and you _told _me I wasn’t going to like that stupid book and I bought it anyway, and I kept coming back for a week waiting for you just so that I could tell you how right you were.”

Shane shakes his head. The damage is already done. The way his heart is aching right now isn’t sustainable. He hopes he’ll just have a heart attack right here. “Just go _home, _Ryan. Call Adrian or something.”

“_Jesus_, Shane. Stop that.” His face is crumpled, desperate. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t forget you again, right? What do I do without you?”

Shane shrugs. He turns the rest of his body toward Ryan, resting the clipboard on his hip. “You start over like you wanted. Just without someone poking around in your brain.” Everything he says sounds _wrong_. But he had no time to plan. 

“I don’t want to,” Ryan says. He blinks, suddenly bright in the eyes. “Holy shit. Shane, what time is it?”

Shane laughs, confused and tired and hurting. He looks at the nurse, who has the phone in her hand, almost anticipating something. He looks back to Ryan. “Why does it matter?”

Ryan fishes in his pocket, typing his passcode in with ease. [It’s all zeroes, after all.] He presses his phone screen to the window. “Look.”

Shane frowns, squinting. The time reads _12:01 am._

“Happy anniversary, Shane.”

Shane has heard Ryan say this many times. Five times. But now, the sixth time, somehow manages to short-circuit his brain entirely.

His fingers go limp.

The clipboard clatters on the tile.

Ryan watches it fall, keeping his phone tight against the glass.

“Um,” Shane says, brilliantly.

[Everything smells like popsicle sticks. It’s unbearable. Ryan’s _right _there. He smells better. Like home.]

“Sir?” The nurse asks. Her voice sounds closer. Shane feels like he’s in a fishbowl. He misses Ryan. “Sir, do you… would you still like to go through with the…”

“Probably not,” Shane mumbles. He turns to her, reaching for his wallet. “How much do I – “

“Well – “

“Actually,” he grabs the wad of cash he’s saved up for this moment [well, not _entirely _this moment – he hadn’t anticipated he’d fail] and holds it out to her. She gathers it in hesitant yet open palms, clearly trying to calculate how much she’s just been given. “Just take all of… uh, that. That should cover it. Extra time and all.”

“Oh…” She looks down at it. “I’ll call Dr. Morris.”

“Okay,” Shane says. [What are you doing just _standing _here? Go get him.] “Okay.” [Shane.] “Okay.”

“Shane.” Ryan’s outside, his phone pocketed, waiting for something. For Shane to come outside. He must think the door is locked. That makes sense. The sign says _CLOSED_.

“Oh,” Shane remembers he can _walk_, he can _move, _he can _throw himself toward Ryan at the highest speed possible_. So he does this.

He pushes the door open. The air is much warmer outside, humid and heavy, thawing him. He takes a minute [to look at Ryan wearing his jacket, the sleeves too long for his arms, his hair wispy across his forehead].

Shane thinks he whispers, “I love you,” but he isn’t sure.

“What are you waiting for?” Ryan asks.

“Is this real?” Shane says, again, like a very intelligent person. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries again. “I mean. Can we – are we… do we have to start over? Do I have to pretend not to know your name and then wait a few months and then we shake hands and say our names and then – “

Ryan’s arms are warm around his neck, pulling him closer to the ground, pulling him into a tight embrace. He welcomes it, burrowing his nose just underneath Ryan’s ear.

“You think too much,” Ryan’s voice is muffled in Shane’s shoulder. He withdraws. Shane holds onto his jacket sleeves. Not ready to leave yet. “_No_, we don’t have to start over, dumbass. We start where we need to start. And we plan things beforehand. And you _talk _to me about your problems instead of holding them in for years. Okay?”

Shane drags his fingers through Ryan’s hair because he _can. _And it feels fantastic. “Yeah. That’s… that’s okay. I can – “

“_Please_,” Ryan grips Shane’s shirt in his fingers, “Please stop talking. For a second.”

Ryan must remember everything – he has those eyes on, that _look _that Shane can recall from more memories than he can show on his two hands. The twinkle is familiar – Ryan knows how irresistible he is. It’s odd to see the look again. But he obliges.

Shane kisses Ryan so hard his upper lip nearly touches his own nose. [He might chuckle, he can't tell. Ryan's only wearing his underwear, it's hilarious.]

There is a brief moment where Shane worries. About five seconds into what will probably go down in history as the best kiss ever. He worries that they might be breaking some PDA rule or they may be forgoing manners in a very public way. But then he feels Ryan slip his hand into Shane’s, and Shane remembers an important thing.

Today is his sixth anniversary with his Soulmate. It is _his _day. It is Ryan’s day. And no one can take it away from him. Not even himself.

The lights of the clinic flicker off.


End file.
